


Persuasion

by Havokftw



Series: I used to be indecisive, now I'm not sure. [9]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alpha Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Fingering, Butt Plugs, Come Swallowing, Comeplay, Domestic Fluff, Dominant Omega, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Knotting, M/M, Mating, Oblivious, Omega Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Omega Verse, Oral Knotting, Oral Sex, Pining, Rough Oral Sex, Rutting, Submissive Alpha, Switching, Top Jihoon, bottom seungcheol, soft alpha Cheol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-30 02:48:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12644589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Havokftw/pseuds/Havokftw
Summary: Jihoon needs to pay attention.





	1. Feral

The apartment is dark when Jihoon arrives, the windows black and quiet. Even the heating is off, which is _unusual_ if Seungcheol is home first.

And Seungcheol _must_ be home; those are Seungcheol’s keys and wallet sitting in the key dish by the front door. 

There is a strange smell in the air, thick and cloyingly sweet, like freshly cut flowers.

Jihoon doesn’t bother turning the lights on as he steps into the living room. They only moved in three months ago, but Jihoon feels like he knows this apartment by heart, like he could be blindfolded and spun around a dozen times and still find his way out of the kitchen, down the corridor to their bedroom without injuring himself.

Once he steps into the hallway, he can see a glow coming from the bedroom, soft and gold, and he smiles, tossing his jacket on the couch and padding towards the light.

Jihoon quietly approaches the dark tuft of hair that peeks out from under the blanket and feels his smile grow wider with every step. Seungcheol is fast asleep; head tilted to one side, quietly snoring—obviously drooling, with an arm and a leg sticking out from under the covers. His eyes flicker behind his lids rapidly, eyelashes thick and dark against his cheekbones, and there is the faintest flush to his skin, delicate like the flesh of a peach.

What a welcoming sight to come home to.

Jihoon toes his shoes off before rounding the bed, keeping his footsteps light on the creaky floor as he approaches Seungcheol and tugs the covers up further. Seungcheol makes a low, rough sound deep in his chest and his breathing hitches a little, but he keeps his eyes closed.

Jihoon leans down and presses his lips gently against the dip in Seungcheol’s temple. He breathes in deep the scent of his mate; leather and wood fire and the tang of Seungcheol’s sweat.  

“A little early to be calling it a night, eh Cheollie?” Jihoon asks in a whisper, though he doesn’t expect an answer.

Seungcheol murmurs something quiet and sleepy, brows furrowing momentarily before smoothing out as Jihoon strokes his hair.

“I guess you’re just tired.” Jihoon mumbles, then yawns himself.

It’s only 7.30pm, and Jihoon hasn’t even had dinner yet—but the sight of his mate asleep in their bed has him feeling equally sluggish, so he doesn’t hesitate to undress and slip under the covers too.

He rearranges Seungcheol on his back, nudging him gently so he can slide down and rest his head on the Alpha’s chest. It rises and falls beneath his cheek with every breath. Seungcheol's arm, wiry with muscle, is a brand against his skin when Jihoon slings it over his back, and superheated fingers curl unconsciously around the jut of his hip.

* * *

 

Jihoon wakes up in the morning just before his alarm, very groggy and overly warm.

His brain is stuffed with cotton from sleeping so long and he’s warm because Seungcheol’s a line of burning heat against him, snuffling at the back of his neck and doing a fine imitation of an octopus-style blanket.

When Jihoon cracks an eye to look at him, Seungcheol is wide awake—bright eyes watching him terrifying intensity.

“Watching me sleep like a creep again huh?” Jihoon mumbles into his mate’s shoulder.

He feels Seungcheol's breath on his cheek and can't tell if it's a laugh or a sigh, but he goes with the former and continues, "Are you gonna get up and make me breakfast—or are you just keep squeezing me to death?”

There's no answer from Seungcheol at first, and Jihoon doesn't hold his breath that he'll get the one he wants.

He tries to ease away from Seungcheol’s grip—but Seungcheol’s a _clingy_ blanket, and Jihoon’s not fast enough.

"Gonna have to let me go at some stage." Jihoon yawns, still having a rather intimate conversation with Seungcheol’s shoulder.

Seungcheol doesn’t respond to that either, but when Jihoon lifts his head to look at him, he smiles goofily and licks a wet stripe up Jihoon’s cheek.

“Ew.” Jihoon complains, loudly and accusingly.

Seungcheol licks him again. And _again_. In fact, he doesn’t stop until Jihoon is pulling away with a sputtered noise of protest.

“Good morning to you too.” Jihoon laughs.

And after Seungcheol's enthusiastic good morning greeting, which involves far too much headbutting - which, ow, seriously? - and licking –which, _fine,_ is a nice and new addition to their morning routine, Jihoon decides it’s time to get up and get ready for class.

He jumps out of bed and pads over to the bathroom, shedding his sleepwear as he goes. He switches the shower on, empties his bladder, brushes his teeth and –jumps when he turns to find Seungcheol standing  _right behind him._

“Dude, don’t do that!” Jihoon gasps, clutching his chest.

Seungcheol grins before slinking close again, and Jihoon has an arm, and half a chest full of extremely heavy, impossibly hot Alpha.

Jihoon scowls.

He pushes at Seungcheol's solid chest, and Seungcheol lets himself be pushed away, though there's a little huffy noise which tells him he doesn't want to go.

* * *

 

Jihoon does not like to linger in the shower. In/out in five minutes is the most he can dedicate to showering on a weekday.

He’s a busy guy. He’s got breakfast to make, lunch to pack and a bus to catch before he reaches campus, so he can’t afford to waste time.

Seungcheol _knows_ this. He’s usually quite good with Jihoon’s morning routine; keeps the bathroom free and makes coffee while Jihoon dresses.

So, it doesn’t make sense for him to be so fucking awkward today.

At the moment, he’s standing next to the shower basin _watching_ Jihoon shower. Which would be fine, except he keeps yanking back the shower curtain every time Jihoon draws it closed, wearing an expression on his face the that is perhaps the polar opposite of happy.

It’s like his inability to watch Jihoon showering is _distressing_ or something. Jihoon decides to find this flattering.

The misplaced curtain, however, results in water spilling out all over the bathroom floor and Jihoon’s patience is fraying.

“Stop messing about. You’re getting water everywhere!” Jihoon snaps, pulling the curtain shut once more, only for Seungcheol to fling it open again not a second later.

Jihoon blinks water out of his eyes. “Seriously! Are you trying to piss me off?”

Seungcheol does that thing again where he pretends to pout.

“Don’t use that face on me, Cheol.” Jihoon cautions.

Seungcheol tilts his head to one side, gaze considered and measuring, then tilts it the other way. His eyes run over Jihoon’s wet body slowly, like a physical touch, no part of him left unscrutinised. Jihoon realizes he’s holding his breath, anticipating...something.

That something turns out to be Seungcheol reaching out and _cupping his balls._

Jihoon tries to look outraged, but the laughter is threatening to take over his face and it makes Seungcheol leer in turn.

He can't help but grin at the Alpha fondly.

Jihoon quirks an eyebrow at his mate. “Are you getting in or what?” He asks.

Seungcheol’s face turns blank, and he tilts his head up to stare at the ceiling like that’s a very important question. One he needs to consider the implications of very thoroughly.

In the end, Jihoon decides for him and just drags Seungcheol into the shower.

It does nothing to lighten Seungcheol’s mood.

“W-arm." Seungcheol stammers, starring at Jihoon beseechingly.

 _Dear god_ —Jihoon can’t handle puppy eyes this early in the morning.

“Fine—I’ll turn the heat up.” Jihoon says, adjusting the dial.

The increase in water temperature only serves to make Seungcheol _unhappier_ somehow, and he complains with that frustrated huff of air through his nose.

The shower isn't really big enough for two, but Seungcheol is very, very good at being where he isn't supposed to be. Jihoon has to slap his wondering hands away multiple times.

He misses Seungcheol moving when he turns away to lather up a sponge, and suddenly there's biting pressure at his jaw, sliding up to scrape against his mouth, and Jihoon is pulling away with a sputtered noise of protest.

"H—hey." He laughs, tipping his head out of the spray to look at his mate.

Seungcheol's face is scrunched in the shower, running wet, and he looks so stupidly happy. Like biting Jihoon on the face, and standing around in a shower with him is the height of entertainment.

“Ugh. Fine.” Jihoon sighs, and very slowly eases closer.

Seungcheol’s hands settle on his waist and he doesn't even hesitate to lick at the trail of water where it's running off the edge of Jihoon's jaw, all teeth and enthusiasm and complete lack of elegance. He follows it up to the corner of Jihoon's mouth with a low, rumble of noise. Jihoon pulls a face, and snorts under the tickling drag of a tongue, shakes his head, water flicking everywhere.

“What is it with you and licking this morning?” Jihoon chuckles.

There's a slow rumble that sounds amused and the hands on his waist slide on wet skin in a way that manages to be suggestive and borderline possessive at the same time. Seungcheol eases him back until the wet length of his chest is pressed into Jihoon's back, fingers slipping back down to cradle his hips, tilting them until the water can't run between them. The Alpha is impossibly warm, warmer than the water.

“Hoon.” Seungcheol murmurs, thumbs drifting lazily on wet skin, testing it.

Jihoon grunts protest but doesn't resist, doesn't pull away. Seungcheol’s fingers spread and dig and crush him back into the steadily hardening weight at his crotch. Demand and intent and Jihoon can't help but spread his legs just a little and let Seungcheol's cock slide in the crease of his ass.

A low, flaring exhale flutters over the back of Jihoon’s neck.

“Enough,” Jihoon growls and dislodges Seungcheol with a hard shove. He grabs a bottle of shampoo off the shelf and squirts some shampoo into his palm before chucking the bottle at Seungcheol.

Seungcheol whines. _Actually_ whines.

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “C’mon Cheollie. The hot water won’t last forever.”

Jihoon focuses on washing himself for a minute, but when he glances back up—Seungcheol is squeezing the entire contents of the shampoo bottle onto his head. He looks very determined.

Jihoon put his hands on his hips and does his best to look very unimpressed.

He wants to glare at Seungcheol so that he knows he's serious. But Seungcheol is - there's no other word for it – Seungcheol is just grinning at him like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. His mouth is open and stretched at the corners, teeth a flash of white. He looks - he looks so fucking happy Jihoon doesn’t have it in him to be angry with him.

“Don’t you think you’ve got enough shampoo there.” Jihoon says indulgently, soaking his hair to create a richer lather.

Seungcheol doesn’t answer him, too busy watching Jihoon work the soap into a lather and mimicking the gesture with his own hair. He’s used almost an entire bottle of shampoo—so it doesn’t take much for him to have a head full of suds.

Jihoon sighs. “There’s no time for shampoo mohawks today Cheol. I’ve got class at nine—you have to be at work soon. Get a move on.”

Seungcheol blinks at him, making no attempt to rinse his hair that’s sitting up in soapy, stupid looking tufts.

Jihoon sighs and steps closer, adjusting the shower head on the wall. “Come here.”

He helps Seungcheol finish lathering his hair, then tips him into the spray to rinse him off. There's a quiet and very wet, snort when he gets shampoo in an eye, but there's mostly no complaining.

If anyone asks Jihoon why he’s late to class, he can say that he had to shampoo his boyfriend.

This is his life now. Domestic as fuck.

Jihoon climbs out of the shower, grabs a towel from the shelf and dabs at the excess water, towelling himself lightly. As he’s wrapping the towel around his waist, there's the sound of skin skidding on tile, and then Jihoon has a face full of water droplets as a very wet Seungcheol hugs him and nuzzles his cheek.

Jihoon pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I –just—dried—off.” He says through gritted teeth. It’s days like this he questions the wisdom of letting Seungcheol into his life.

Seungcheol doesn’t seem to care, too busy towelling off using _Jihoon_ as his own personal towel incidentally.

When Jihoon slips out of his grip, Seungcheol huffs and is right back into his space again, pushing his face into the back of Jihoon's neck, all pressure and wet mouth and inquisitiveness.

Jihoon elbows him away without thinking about it.

When Jihoon turns, Seungcheol’s pressing up against him more purposefully, erection digging into the small of his back.

Jihoon shivers all over and lets out a low, shocked moan. Behind him, Seungcheol makes a hungry noise that Jihoon can feel vibrating in his bones.

There's a faint press of fingers into his skin, the very real threat of them sliding down spreading him open and Jihoon knows he will lose any argument that comes after. Because Seungcheol is very, very good with his hands and Jihoon's been hard since the moment Seungcheol started touching him.

“Not now Cheollie.” Jihoon chuckles, trying to wriggle away as Seungcheol rolls his hips against his ass. He feels the growl in Seungcheol’s chest even though it’s not given voice.

Pushing at Seungcheol's chest is like trying to push rock, but he shoves until Seungcheol relents with a grunt, and sways backwards.

Jihoon grabs a fresh towel, intent on drying them both, but Seungcheol is out of the bathroom and already wandering off, all wet footprints, dripping skin and phenomenal ass.

“Get back here you idiot! You’re getting water everywhere.” Jihoon grumbles.

This is not what Jihoon signed up for today. It's really not.

* * *

 

Seungcheol is increasingly awkward as Jihoon tries to get dressed, practically throwing a mini tantrum as Jihoon pulls on his clothes. He even tries to yank Jihoon’s pants down as Jihoon is occupied buttoning up his shirt.

“What the hell Cheol!” Jihoon huffs. He glares at Seungcheol for a millisecond, then sighs, and plasters on his face of resolve and maturity. It's new so he doesn't really have a handle on it yet.

Seungcheol’s forehead creases further, eyebrows almost meeting. He tries to yank Jihoon’s pants down again and gets a smack on the hand for his efforts.

“Stop it. It’s not funny.” Jihoon glares.

Seungcheol _does_ stop, but he doesn’t look happy about it. He looks like he wants to rip off all Jihoon’s clothes on principle.

Jihoon maintains a placid look as he hikes his pants back up and buckles his belt. If he appears too concerned it will only serve to encourage exactly this kind of melodrama.

Next, he grabs a hoodie from the drawer, tugs it on and turns to fix his hair in mirror.

“You should get dressed too.” He suggests, looking at Seungcheol’s reflection.

Seungcheol’s standing a short distance behind him, currently trying to glare Jihoon’s clothes off. Which probably won't work. Though the guy's giving it a damn good go.

Jihoon spins and clicks his fingers once to get his mates attention. “Seriously—you’re going to be late.”

Seungcheol just stares at him blankly, then gestures to the bed in a way that Jihoon thinks is supposed to  _mean_  something.

Jihoon throws his hands in the air. “Fine. Give me the silent treatment—see if I care.” He huffs, striding towards the door.

He's doing a pretty good job of storming off, when Seungcheol is suddenly  _right there_ , blocking the exit, catching at his arm and pulling him to a stop.

“What?” Jihoon snaps.

Seungcheol’s brow is furrowed, jaw working slowly like he wants to say something but shuts his mouth before he actually gives voice to anything, because his brain and his mouth are, apparently, no longer on speaking terms. Even less so than usual anyway.

Jihoon rolls his eyes and nudges him out of the way with his shoulder. “C’mon, let just get something to eat.”

He is almost certain that Seungcheol is faking that heavy layer of hurt.

The Alpha is clearly unhappy about something today, but he follows Jihoon all the way to the kitchen, making odd noises, like little coughs in his throat.

He’s also _still_ naked, which becomes a lot more noticeable in the stark light of the kitchen.

It should look more ridiculous.

It's completely unfair that Seungcheol only looks, like, ten percent ridiculous.

He’s got the body for naked jaunts around the house, with that ass and those thighs and the shoulders like an ode to male physique.

It’s so unfair.

If Jihoon tried that he would look at least seventy percent ridiculous.

“I get that we live alone now, but wearing clothes in the kitchen is more a _safety_ thing. Just imagine spilling something hot on your crotch Cheol—it won’t be pleasant.” Jihoon warns.

Seungcheol doesn’t seem to be troubled about the nakedness. In fact, he makes face that suggests the kitchen nakedness is here to stay and Jihoon should get used to it.

Jihoon can’t find the energy to be concerned either—especially now that he has something nice to look at while he’s preparing breakfast.

Correction— _trying_ to prepare breakfast, because suddenly Seungcheol is a huge, damp, naked weight that's mostly crushing him into the counter and hampering all his breakfast making progress.

Jihoon grumbles when he can’t angle his hand to scrape butter without dislocating his shoulder. “Okay—but it’s really hard to butter toast like this.”

Seungcheol pushes his face into Jihoon's throat and inhales deeply. He seems intent on impressing his scent on Jihoon as much as possible. There’s a lot of gentle hugs, nuzzling with gentle pushes and bumps from behind, that turn into weird, messy sniffs against Jihoon’s ear.

“Do you want a slice of my toast? Is that it?” Jihoon asks around a mouthful.

Seungcheol makes a whiny, distracted noise, but he's not trying to steal any of Jihoon’s breakfast, just leaning his weight on Jihoon's back, in a way that seems vaguely purposeful. There's a low growl rattling around somewhere in his throat.

“Behave and you can have my second slice.” Jihoon offers, holding up a piece for the Alpha to sniff.

Seungcheol sniffs and wrinkles his nose.

Jihoon goes back to eating his toast, crushed against the counter. It’s not exactly convenient, but Seungcheol’s clearly working through something.

He’s pushing at Jihoon’s hips, trying to get him lower, like he wants to bracket Jihoon with his thighs –

 _Oh my God_.

"Cheollie!” Jihoon shrieks, voice going more shrill than he would ever admit to. Because that is _not_ happening, that is very much not happening right now in the kitchen.

Jihoon’s shriek seems to give Seungcheol pause, makes the Alpha tilt his head at Jihoon as if wondering what he has done wrong.

Jihoon uses the opportunity to flail his way out from under Seungcheol's weight, whilst trying not to choke on toast. He leans against the opposite side of the counter, brushes some toast crumbs off his hoodie.

“Dude, there is a strict no mounting policy in the kitchen. The kitchen is for eating." Jihoon says—then on cautious reflection adds, “Eating _food_!” Because obviously specificity is important when it comes to Alpha’s. 

And now Seungcheol has his stubborn face on. He pouts at Jihoon, like he doesn’t agree with this new rule.

He doesn’t try to mount Jihoon again, but he doesn’t leave the kitchen either; he hovers uncertainly in the corner determinedly disinterested in the world around him.

It isn’t unusual for Seungcheol to be distracted, but the _way_ he’s paying attention to Jihoon _is_. His eyes are focused, tracking Jihoon as he moves around the kitchen prepping his lunch. It leaves Jihoon feeling a little lost, a little confused. Something strange is making itself known within him, a familiar hunger slowly working its way to the forefront.

He’s not sure what it is—but maybe he’s coming down with something.

Jihoon holds out for as long as he can but the intense scrutiny makes him twitchy. He abandons his second slide of toast in favour of gulping down scalding hot coffee, if only to stop Seungcheol’s puppy eyes from watching him devour each bite.

Heading out into the hallway, he stops briefly to toe on his shoes. Kneeling down to tie the laces, he startles when an arm loops around his waist, dragging him back across the floor.

“Cheol? What are you….” he trails off as a line of heat settles across his back.

Behind him, Seungcheol makes a low, warning rumble in his throat. His grip around Jihoon’s waist is tight enough to force all the air out of him.

Jihoon falls still, blood pulsing in his ears. He forces himself to relax, hears a contented sound in his ear. Hot air brushes against the back of his neck; Seungcheol's breath.

Jihoon sighs as he ends up curled under the arch of Seungcheol's body.

“Let go Cheollie.” Jihoon snaps, smacking his arm gently and, yes, for a second he can't believe he did that - but Seungcheol relaxes the arm. Enough that Jihoon can kind of sag to his knees, but not enough for him to slip out of the Alpha’s grip.

Jihoon cranes his neck to get a look at Seungcheol behind him, “Cheol—cut it out. I need to get to class.”

Seungcheol’s panicky little whine in response to that is _way_ too high, and is not doing anything good for his nerves.

“Enough Seungcheol. Let me go now!” Jihoon says sharply, face colouring, trying to twist his way out of Seungcheol's impossible grip.

After a second the arm around his waist loosens completely and the low bass rumble that had been going continuously drops low, and then stops.

Jihoon scrambles out of Seungcheol’s grip and stands to face him.

“What has gotten into you today? You’re being so difficult this morning and you know how I hate being late for things.” Jihoon says. He isn't quite sure whether he sounds nervous or irritated, adrenaline makes his voice louder than he means.

Seungcheol at least looks guilty about being so difficult. He’s got a near permanent worry line between his eyes now, and that blank look has been replaced with one of unending sadness.

Jihoon almost wants to take it back. Anything to keep that crushed, kicked-puppy look of betrayal off his mates face.

“I have to get to class—I’ll—I’ll see you later.” Jihoon sighs, grabbing his backpack of the floor and heading towards the door.

Seungcheol startles and makes to follow him, but stops as Jihoon thrusts his hand up, a clear command to stay. He whimpers instead, glancing frantically between Jihoon and the door.

Jihoon is officially bewildered now, he can feel his forehead wrinkling in confusion. “I have to go Cheol.”

It’s so awful, the way Seungcheol is looking at him, that Jihoon almost wants to stay. He thinks about how easy it would be to skip his classes, call Seungkwan and ask him to take notes. But this is ridiculous—Seungcheol has work too.

“Ji-Hoon.” Seungcheol murmurs, a spark of hopefulness in his eyes. “Stay.” he adds simply.

He doesn't offer any explanation, but his expression says he's serious as hell.

The spark dims a bit when Jihoon shakes his head.

“I can’t. I have _class._ You have _work—which_ you’re going to be late for by the way. So, go get dressed!” Jihoon snaps, voice hard and angry. He doesn't even think it's real anger any more. It's more like defensive anger. It's an anger that wants to push more than it wants to bite.

Something in Seungcheol's jaw twitches, like he just resisted a whole-body flinch. He blinks at Jihoon and takes two steps back, and then curls his lip at the empty space between them.

Now Jihoon’s even more lost.

The look of bewilderment on Seungcheol’s face when Jihoon twists the handle and opens the door is definitely expected. That he actually appears somewhat hurt—isn’t, and therefore about a thousand times worse.

“Go get dressed.” Jihoon reminds him once more as he leaves.

“Hoon.” Seungcheol says, just once, as the door shuts. It’s heavy and terrible. It sounds nothing like a name.

* * *

 

Jihoon considers hailing a cab to get him to class on time. He really hates being late for things.

He’s angry with Seungcheol for being so difficult this morning even though he shouldn’t be. He knows he should be grateful for having such a loving mate who adores him and worships the very ground he walks on. He still doesn't know what kind of luck landed him Seungcheol, but he doesn't want to push it by complaining about his clinginess.

He knows they see less of each other with their current schedules and it’s normal for Alpha’s to get clingy and possessive. But Seungcheol’s never been quite _this_ clingy before.

Sure—he’s pretty possessive of Jihoon around other Alpha’s. But that died down after they were mated. The only other time was during Seungcheol’s….

Jihoon freezes to mortified stone. His heartbeat raises a panicked racket in his ears, in his suddenly ice-cold chest, and he almost loses his footing in an awkward scramble.

_Oh my god!_

Jihoon's eyes go wide as he connects the pieces.

_HE’S IN RUT!_

* * *

 

Jihoon sprints back to the apartment, almost getting knocked over as he crosses the road in too much of a hurry to check for cars.

His mind is running through a mental checklist of all the reasons that it's very bad that Seungcheol is home alone right now. Of all the things Jihoon did, and all the things he said. Things he never would have said or done if he'd _known_!

He has a horrible, visceral mental image of Seungcheol leaving the apartment and going out into the street.

What if he mauls somebody?

What if he gets himself tranquilized, or shot?

What if he runs straight into traffic?

The possibilities are endless and awful.

How could have Jihoon not noticed?

* * *

 

“Cheol?” Jihoon calls out the second he bursts through the apartment front door.

He takes a breath, feels it grate all the way down his throat.

There is no answer.

Everything is quiet and the apartment is as Jihoon left it…which is _surprising_.

Jihoon had thought about the consequences of leaving Seungcheol alone and untied during his rut, so he expected to find the apartment in complete chaos when he returned. But presumably Seungcheol has become even _tamer_ since they’ve mated; the lack of damage is both encouraging and foreboding.

Jihoon locks and bolts the door behind him, dropping his backpack and jogging towards the kitchen to check for his mate’s whereabouts.

“Cheol? Where are you?” He chokes out, trying to keep his voice steady. He feels a prickle of fear raise the hairs on the back of his neck. 

The place is empty, and Jihoon has that brief worry again that Seungcheol has somehow gotten outside.

Before he can really start freaking out about it, he hears it: a low growl coming from the interior of the house.

It's an _unhappy_ growl.

When he walks through the bedroom door, he finds Seungcheol standing in front of the open wardrobe surrounded by discarded and/or ripped clothing, and currently struggling to fit his entire head through the armhole of a shirt.

Jihoon winces when he realises Seungcheol is _actually_ trying to dress himself—like Jihoon had ordered him to. Though the pair of sweats shredded and piled on a chair in the corner says he hasn’t been successful.

“Oh shit—I’m so sorry baby!” Jihoon rushes over, freeing Seungcheol from his self-inflicted shirt prison.

Seungcheol huffs at him as soon as he sees him, like he's utterly betrayed that Jihoon was gone for ten minutes.

Jihoon is immediately filled with a confusing mixture of relief, guilt and dread. It's not a good combination. They churn sickeningly together. He could kick himself for not realising Seungcheol had entered his rut sooner, and could kick himself twice as hard for being so impatient with the Alpha.

Seungcheol’s always been there for him during his heats, literally clearing his schedule every month to take care of him and never turning him away, no matter how inconvenient the timing. Jihoon’s ashamed that he’d been so self-absorbed. He’d missed the signs when he should have been here to repay the favour.

He could wallow in guilt all day over this, but—true to form, Seungcheol’s wounded petulance lasts all of one minute and between one blink and the next Seungcheol has pushed himself into Jihoon's space, swept him off his feet and started snuffling at his throat.

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry—I’m sorry.” Jihoon peppers Seungcheol’s face with small kisses, lets himself be gathered close and held. He reaches up to bury his fingers in the fine hairs at Seungcheol's nape, stroking gently.

“Hoon.” Seungcheol purrs with a smile that goes a long way towards untwisting the knot that's been in Jihoon’s stomach.

"Really? I’m forgiven?" Jihoon asks, thick and soft and fractured. "You could be angrier with me a little longer—If you wanted. I deserve it.”

The Alpha cradles Jihoon closer, buries his face in Jihoon’s neck, and gives a little yip that tears Jihoon’s heart in two.

Classic Seungcheol: not one to hold a grudge; he’s just happy that his mate is with him again.

Jihoon can't help the shaky little noise of relief he makes when Seungcheol nuzzles him tenderly and starts purring. The lazy, content rumble travels through him like electricity in his bones, softens the sharp edges of guilt he feels and makes him melt.

He makes a low noise in return. “Ah, Cheollie.” he murmurs, eyes turning heavy-lidded.

He doesn’t resist when Seungcheol pulls him over to the foot of the bed and eases them down to the floor, and for a long while Jihoon is content to sit astride his thighs, allows Seungcheol to rearrange him as he will. The scent of him, thick, musky, wreathes through his senses, washing away his guilt. For a long time he drifts, the rhythm of his breath in tandem with Seungcheol's.

Jihoon leans back to cup Seungcheol’s cheek, “I’m so sorry I left you Cheollie. I must seem like the worst mate ever, leaving you like that. _Actually_ —I _am_ the worst. I can’t believe I didn’t realise you were rutting.” He gulps, helplessly, because it still feels like he needs to say something.

Seungcheol's sniffing his hair now, in a curious but still kind of happy, sort of way. He makes what Jihoon decides is a forgiving noise into his ear, and Jihoon pats him on the head for it. “I just thought you were being horny and clingy and—fuck—I don’t even _have_ a good excuse. I should have--”

Jihoon’s words are muffled when Seungcheol slots their mouths together. It's clumsy, rough in a way that feels more hungry than sexy. It feels a lot like Seungcheol is trying to tell him things—using his mouth.

Jihoon’s hand comes up and slides through his hair, moulds gently along the curve of Seungcheol’s skull and guides him so they can kiss properly. In this, like in many things, Seungcheol hands over the reins easily, almost eagerly, mouth opening under Jihoon’s coaxing. He’s sweet, of course he is sweet and amazingly docile for all his size and bulk. Needing someone to lead him, Jihoon thinks, a little dazed as he pulls back.

Seungcheol is looking at him like he is the most amazing thing in the world, that adoring gaze he always reserves for Jihoon times one hundred. It makes Jihoon’s throat close up in tenderness, because nobody has _ever_ looked at him like that. He’s still getting used to it.

“Good boy. So tame for me.” Jihoon whispers reverently.

Seungcheol ducks his head, almost sheepish.

Jihoon slides his hand up around Seungcheol’s throat and gently strokes the skin underneath his chin. Seungcheol’s eyes narrow to slits, and Jihoon giggles at the pleased, smug expression on his face.

“I’m going to make it up to you—I promise.” Jihoon says, pressing a kiss to Seungcheol’s brow.

The Alpha lets out a shuddery breath that Jihoon takes as agreement.

“I’m pulling out all the stops—all the best sex for you.” Jihoon says, and watches Seungcheol's eyes light up with eager anticipation.

Seungcheol’s excitement manifests in a quiet, desperate whine. “Sex.”

Jihoon resists the urge to roll his eyes. _“Of course_ that’s going to be your first and probably _only_ conversational contribution.” He snickers fondly. “Yes. All the sex.”

Seungcheol pulls him closer and presses their foreheads together. He does that stupid smile. The one Jihoon is incapable of hating, because it's just that dumb. “Fertile.” He says.

Jihoon swallows back what wants to be a snort and nods instead. “Yes, Cheollie. Fertile.”


	2. Docile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seungcheol's rut continues.

Jihoon keeps his voice hushed as he makes a quick phone call to Seungkwan, just to let him know he won’t be making it to class for the rest of the week.

He doesn't know _why_ he bothers keeping his voice low in the first place, Seungcheol's growling anyway, lips pulled back from his teeth as he glares at the phone in Jihoon’s hand.

Freaking Alpha’s and their stupid super-hearing.

No matter how many reassurances Jihoon gives, Seungcheol seems to think the tinny voice coming from the speaker is a threat!

“His last rut lasted two days, so I _should_ be back by Monday.” Jihoon tilts his head to trap the mobile between his shoulder and his ear; he needs both hands free to manage Seungcheol, to stop him from batting the phone away. _Again_.

“Cheollie—relax. It’s just Seungkwan. You know him.” Jihoon soothes, carefully bringing the phone closer to Seungcheol for him to listen in.

Seungcheol stares in the general vicinity of the phone, and he doesn't try and eat it, which is _something_ \- Jihoon likes to think it's a _good_ something.

 _“Hi Cheol! Hope you feel better soon.”_ Seungkwan says.

Seungcheol’s eyebrows jump. He sniffs the receiver— _then continues growling._

Jihoon pulls the phone back, struggling to keep any fondness from leaking into the exasperated expression on his face.

He thinks about turning the washing machine on, or maybe the microwave—see if Seungcheol will growl at them instead.

No. On second thought, that’s not cool.

That’ll probably be distressing for Seungcheol once the timer runs out and things start beeping. It would be awkward explaining to their landlord why some of their kitchen appliances have been reduced to tiny little pieces.

Eventually, Jihoon just puts Seungkwan on loudspeaker and Seungcheol prowls the room, tossing cushions and checking behind curtains—as if searching for an intruder. Jihoon would high five him for his protective instincts—but he’s sure Seungcheol would just mistranslate that gesture into some sexual mating dance or something.

 _“Why’s he so angry?”_ Seungkwan asks.

Jihoon watches as Seungcheol drops down to his knees to check under the bed, “Sorry. He hears your voice and thinks you’re in the apartment.” Jihoon clarifies.

Seungkwan laughs outright. _“Wow. I never knew alpha’s could be that—dumb.”_

Jihoon levels an insulted expression at the phone. “Don’t you **_dare_** call my Cheollie dumb!” he barks.

 _“Okay—geez. Relax. Is he in rut, or are you?”_ Seungkwan says, still sounding more amused than anything else.

Jihoon makes a rude gesture Seungkwan is in no position to appreciate over loudspeaker.

Seungcheol whines high in his throat. He’s looking over at him now, all questioning eyebrows and trembling lower lip. He obviously thinks Jihoon just snapped at _him_.

Jihoon fights the urge to smile. In truth, Seungcheol _can_ be a bit of a dim bulb during his rut, and Jihoon is man enough to admit he finds it a little adorable.

He pats the space on the bed next to him, and Seungcheol abandons his search for the disembodied voice of Seungkwan to rush over willingly.

Instead of sitting down, he slumps his huge frame over Jihoon’s legs, legs hanging off the edge. He doesn't look comfortable at all, but he seems happy enough.

Jihoon smiles and drops a hand to stroke Seungcheol’s nape.

 _“Are you sure you’re equipped to handle him?”_ Seungkwan asks a little carelessly. His tone coloured with a sliver of condescension.

“What? Yes, of course.” Jihoon says. Seungcheol’s hair is soft and still a little damp as he reaches out to thread his fingers through it. "I’m his mate." he points out.

 _“I—know.”_ Seungkwan says hesitantly. _“I’m just aware that Alpha’s can get—violent during their ruts.”_

“Yeah usually—but _not_ Seungcheol.” Jihoon assures, absently scratching his fingernails across Seungcheol's scalp. “He’s very tame. With me at least—he’d probably rip _your_ face off.”

Seungcheol purrs, bumping his head up against Jihoon’s hand before shoving his nose into Jihoon's crotch; sniffing in sharp, measured bursts of hot air.

Jihoon _barely_ supresses a moan.

He's hard, of course he's already hard and wet, and he tightens his grip on Seungcheol’s hair as he explores the ridges of his hips and the covered length of his erection with quick sniffs and...

" _Fuck,_ " Jihoon hisses when Seungcheol licks him through the cotton of his shorts. He doesn’t want to come in his pants on the phone to Seungkwan. And he could, far too easily, with Seungcheol’s hair twisted between his fingers and Seungcheol mouthing at the outline of his cock through his boxers.

 “Seungkwan—I need to go.”

_“Hmm—Okay. If you’re sure. I’ll give you the notes next week.”_

“Thanks Seungkwan, I appreciate it.”

* * *

 

The minute Jihoon strips off, Seungcheol is herding him against the bed with a predatory growl. It’s just a little bit dark with a hint of command and makes Jihoon want to arch back and bare his throat. His teeth scrape over Jihoon’s jugular and it’s electrifying.

“No—not yet.” Jihoon croaks.

Seungcheol swallows down a whine and stands patiently.

Jihoon draws him into a kiss, one hand resting on his nape. “So very patient. I think you deserve a reward.”

Jihoon tugs him closer and trails deliberate kisses down Seungcheol's chest, flicking his nipples as he kisses farther down, over Seungcheol's ribs and stomach.

The look Seungcheol gives him as he drops to his knees seems to say  _so what are you doing_ , but Jihoon doesn't explain. Not yet.

He settles on his knees between Seungcheol’s legs, delicate fingers wrapping around the flushed cock in a firm grip. He hesitates just a moment to glance up at Seungcheol through his lashes before swirling his tongue around the crown.

"Wanna fuck my mouth Cheollie?" Jihoon murmurs, lapping the salty stickiness from the head.

Seungcheol’s eyes are dark, pupils wide, and his mouth is parted as he looks down at Jihoon. He growls, a low rumble of approval that Jihoon feels more than hears starting in Seungcheol’s chest.

“Want you to knot my mouth Cheollie. Can you do that?” Jihoon says with a smirk, licking his lips in anticipation.

Seungcheol grins that feral, dangerous grin, takes himself in hand, and tilts his hips forward. The tip of his cock nudges Jihoon’s bottom lip and Jihoon opens his mouth right up, pausing only to angle his head back and take Seungcheol farther into his mouth.

Seungcheol gasps something unintelligible, eyes falling closed and head dropping back.

Jihoon loosens his jaw, and swallows around Seungcheol greedily. He stiffens his tongue, rubs it hard against the underside of Seungcheol’s cock, savouring the feel—the taste and weight—of Seungcheol's cock on his tongue.

Seungcheol reaches for him, hands sliding into Jihoon's hair, a tightening hold at the nape of Jihoon's neck, the base of his skull. Seungcheol's fingers shiver, grip harder then loosen their hold, as though Seungcheol is struggling with himself.

Jihoon braces one hand on Seungcheol's thigh, curls his other hand around the base of Seungcheol's cock. He plays his tongue over the length in his mouth, teases at the slit, and Seungcheol gasps and shudders, legs widening his stance and bracketing either side of Jihoon's body as Seungcheol plants his feet against the floor, clearly struggling not to let his hips thrust forward.

Jihoon hums, low and appreciative, and strokes downwards with his hand as he takes Seungcheol even deeper.

Seungcheol growls and it sounds like Jihoon's name, and this time he doesn't manage to stop his hips from bucking upwards—or his hands from pulling Jihoon forward, down harder on his length—and when Jihoon feels the head of Seungcheol's cock nudge at the back of his throat, he suppresses his gag reflex, relaxes his muscles—

And still chokes, because much as he wishes he had the skill for it, deep throating an Alpha’s erect cock isn't a talent he's managed to hone.

"Hoon," Seungcheol whimpers, apology lacing his voice as his hands abruptly let go.

But Jihoon's not in the mood for apologies right now, and he draws off Seungcheol's cock just long enough to regain his breath—just long enough to cough and swallow and regain his focus. Then he licks a taunting stripe from base to tip, before parting his lips and taking Seungcheol back into his mouth.

Seungcheol's hands hover uncertainly, and Jihoon pulls off to smile, "It’s okay Cheollie. Don’t worry— _I want this_. I want you to fuck my mouth." He murmurs. And Seungcheol takes that invitation, slides unhesitatingly between Jihoon’s lips.

He pulls off to the tip and thrust in deep again. Jihoon breathes through his nose so as to not interrupt the action. Half choking on Seungcheol’s cock causes him to make the most obscene sounds: slurping, squishing, gagging. He loves everything about it, loves the soreness of his throat and the ache of his jaw wrapped around his mate.

Seungcheol moans his encouragement. But this isn’t how Jihoon wants Seungcheol to get off. He wants more, he wants everything. He wants to let that pleasure surge and ebb until Seungcheol can't help it, until Seungcheol just  _has_  to swell inside his mouth.

He palms and squeezes Seungcheol’s ass, and the Alpha starts fucking in with that reckless edge that had surprised and charmed Jihoon when they’d first started sleeping together, and will never be able to get enough of now.

Jihoon’s awareness has narrowed down to just Seungcheol, nothing but Seungcheol, and there’s no room for anything else. It’s all sweat and musk scent, and the salt of pre-come on his tongue. There’s smooth skin beneath his hands, the wet smear of his dick sliding in, and the sound of Seungcheol’s unabashed moaning layered over it all. Every one of his senses feels overloaded and Jihoon revels in it, drunk on sensation.

Seungcheol’s just as gone, driving in hard, over and over; Jihoon can feel lean muscle flexing and working beneath his hands.

The thick head of Seungcheol’s cock keeps nudging the back of Jihoon’ throat, right at the edge of what Jihoon can bear with each pass, and it’s amazing and it’s fucking terrifying, how turned on he is.

It makes Jihoon bucks his hips, just a little, helpless, seeking friction he knows he can’t get, and  _won’t_  get – not yet.

The hinge of his jaw is starting to ache, almost throbbing in time with Seungcheol’s rhythm, and Jihoon groans.

The vibration makes Seungcheol’s hips jerk reflexively, and  _oh-god-yes_  that’s hot.

Jihoon wants that, wants Seungcheol’s loss of control, so he moans again, longer and deeper this time.

Seungcheol’s thrusts start stuttering in earnest, and Jihoon seals his lips around Seungcheol as best as he can whilst keeping his jaw lax, sucking hungrily as Seungcheol's movements turn suddenly erratic.

“Hoon!” Seungcheol's fingers tighten in his hair, an unforgiving grip, a warning of what’s to come.

Jihoon pulls off, and stares up at the alpha. “There we go—yeah— _good boy_. I know you wanna come for me, wanna knot my mouth, don’t you.”

Seungcheol groans, voice thick with gravel and arousal.

Jihoon smirks and leans forward, sucking the cock back into his mouth. He takes Seungcheol as deep as he can, tightens his grip around the base of the shaft, squeezing his fist to mimic the clench of muscles to stimulate a knot.

Jihoon’s stroking faster now, firmer, as he hollows his cheeks and urges Seungcheol towards the orgasm looming just seconds away.

“Hoon—hoon—I—” Seungcheol pants, his voice gone ragged. His thighs tense, his cock hardens further, and then he’s grinding, throat-bruisingly rough, into Jihoon’s mouth, chanting his name in a gorgeous, broken refrain.

Jihoon strokes Seungcheol’s thighs encouragingly, palms massaging the perfect roundness of his ass as the Alpha whines through his orgasm.

When the first salty spurt of fluid hits Jihoon's tongue, Jihoon doesn't stop sucking; he closes his eyes and swallows.

It’s hot, hotter than normal, far more wet pressure filling him up his mouth than he’s used to. Especially alongside the thick, familiar weight of Seungcheol so deep, it’s...

He feels it as Seungcheol swells, barely enough to notice at first. But it doesn’t stop. It doesn’t stop, and tears prick at the corners of Jihoon’s eyes as he tries to breathe through his nose and swallow through the stretch.

It gets easier with each pulse, taking Seungcheol further and further down, one hand braced on his mate’s thigh and the other moving and grasping along the base of Seungcheol's cock in time with every swallow.

Seungcheol whines, head tipped back as the swelling settles. Jihoon rests his weight on his knees, forcing the pressure deeper with a choked groan as pulse after pulse of cum trickles down his throat.  Every breath seems to make the knot shift in his mouth, make his lips stretch open even more.

It hits him then, as he clamps down on the swollen prick, how obscene the sight must be; him kneeling obediently for an Alpha to knot his mouth. Knowing that it’s  _Seungcheol—_ locked so tight and deep inside him, Jihoon moans and comes hard without a single stroke on his cock, stomach and thighs shaking as he spills on the floor.

Jihoon’s embarrassed to admit he’s really enjoying himself. He feels so full. _Loves_ it. _Loves_ having Seungcheol’s dick in his mouth. _Loves_ kneeling while Seungcheol towers over him.

Even as the knot shrinks and he has enough room in his mouth to slip free, he _doesn’t_.

He moans and sucks, drinking down what Seungcheol offers him.

It’s a far cry from the Jihoon of old, who would have balked at the very notion of letting an Alpha debase him like this. But this isn’t just any Alpha—it’s Seungcheol. His mate.

Seungcheol strokes his hair in the silence, admiring Jihoon in a way that Jihoon definitely would have turned away blushing from if he could. As it is, he can only shut his eyes as Seungcheol looks him over with lust and worship plain on his face.

His mate is a paradox; all demand and greed, mixed with a strange sort of gentle reverence that Jihoon thinks will never, never stop killing him. It will never stop leaving him helpless to do anything but catch him and hold him and do anything Seungcheol wants.

He doesn’t know how long he stays like that, but soon enough Seungcheol stops shooting heavily down his throat and Jihoon’s jaw _twinges_ as he eases off the thickest press of the knot.

His lips are swollen as he pulls off Seungcheol’s cock with a flirty little  _pop_  of sound.

He massages his aching jaw and takes a firm grip of Seungcheol’s dick.

“So good Cheollie. You’re doing so well.” Jihoon croaks, kissing the head of Seungcheol’s cock.

Seungcheol is so blissed out he’s not paying attention. His eyes are looking, but glazed over, glassy as his knot begins to relax.

Jihoon strokes his thigh. “That’s my boy.”

Seungcheol closes his eyes and smiles, a genuine one that shows off his dimples. He’s blushing too, a faint pink barely discernible over his already heated skin.

Jihoon doesn’t think twice about giving Seungcheol’s balls a gentle squeeze, encouraging him to keep going. He rubs the shaft along the side of his cheek, then kisses where his cock is red and straining, fluid still welling at the tip.

Jihoon laps it up kittenishly. “I’m so full Cheollie, but I love when you make a mess of me.”

That remark just has Seungcheol blushing even more, colour flaring across his cheekbones as Jihoon strokes him, cock dripping anew when Jihoon gives it a deliberate squeeze. “Yeah— _hmm_. Just like that—keep going.”

Seungcheol whines as his cock starts shooting again, watching with feverish excitement as his come paints Jihoon’s chest and neck in pearly white.

Lazily, Jihoon runs the tip over his face, smearing the mess over his cheeks and chin. “C’mon baby. I want more.”

In his grip, Seungcheol’s erection pulses out another stream of wetness. “Fuck—yes. That’s it.” Jihoon moans his approval and swallows another mouthful, allowing the rest spill down over his face in warm sticky ropes.

The muscles of Seungcheol’s thighs are twitching with the aftershock. Jihoon rubs his palms up and down them soothingly, tilting his head up so he can see Seungcheol’s face as they both take in huge, gasping breaths.

Seungcheol looks dazed and wholly blissed out. Now that he’s pulled away somewhat, the thrum of arousal running through Jihoon’s body gets rerouted, reasserting itself urgently in the desire to end up looking  _equally_  fucked out as Seungcheol.

He stands on shaky legs, and directs Seungcheol to lay down on the bed.

Jihoon's expression is bright and smug as he moves back up Seungcheol's body and straddles him. Satisfaction flares warmly in his chest, strong enough that for a moment it even competes with the straining intensity of Jihoon's own mounting arousal. He nuzzles at Seungcheol's jaw, kisses his rushing pulse point, and barely resists the urge to leave a mark of his own.

Seungcheol's chest rises and falls raggedly beneath Jihoon's hand, and Jihoon watches him blink at the ceiling, watches as Seungcheol slowly gets it together.

Seungcheol finally meets Jihoon's eyes, and his voice is gruff as he says, _“Hoon?”_

Jihoon grins wide at the question—at the heat he can still hear colouring Seungcheol's voice even in the wake of orgasm—and he leans in close.

“Want me to ride you Cheollie?” Jihoon purrs.

Seungcheol yips and laps his own sticky mess off Jihoon’s face in response.

* * *

 

There are many things Jihoon loves about sex with Seungcheol: the delicious burn that comes with the first push of Seungcheol’s thick cock stretching him open, the feel of Seungcheol’s hands gripping tight and possessive on his hips and leaving finger-shaped bruises that will last for days, the way Seungcheol pins him down without an inch of give so all Jihoon can do is take it and take it and beg him for more.

But the part that comes after might be his favourite, when everything is soft and fuzzy at the edges, and Seungcheol’s hands are warm on his body while Jihoon stretches languidly, feeling fucked open and perfectly content and all slick and messy with Seungcheol’s come plugged inside him.

Jihoon shifts on the sheets and spreads his legs as Seungcheol slips his hand down between Jihoon’s thighs.

“Hoon,” Seungcheol says, sounding pleased as he runs his fingers through the mess of lube and come dripping down his legs from his overflowing knot.

“I’m so full Cheollie. Good job baby.” Jihoon says with a happy sigh.

Seungcheol braces himself on one hand and leans in to press his mouth to the bite mark on Jihoon’s neck, lips soft and suckling against Jihoon’s skin. His other hand rubs circles over Jihoon’s belly, exerting careful pressure where Jihoon is slightly swollen.

Jihoon moans, arching into the palm.

“Baby.” Seungcheol whispers.

Jihoon’s head is still too fuzzy from his orgasm for him to argue why that’s not possible yet, but he manages what he thinks is a very serious frown—that is—until his stomach grumbles loudly. They’ve been fucking for the better part of two days, he really should get something to eat soon.

Seungcheol’s eyebrows rise slowly at the sound, and he seems inexplicably happy. “Baby.” He whispers again.

Jihoon snorts. “It’s not a baby you dope—I’m hungry!”

Carefully, Jihoon reaches behind him to ease Seungcheol out of him. It's awkward, but necessary. Especially since he gets to see Seungcheol’s face again, blissed out and more than a little sleepy.

Seungcheol reaches for him, trying to wrap a hand around Jihoon's wrist, but Seungcheol is still a little clumsy from orgasm and Jihoon evades him easily, sneaking off to the bathroom for a wet washcloth and a glass of water.

When Jihoon comes back, he's glad to see that Seungcheol at least had enough coordination to scoot to the edge of the bed, and keeps his touches gentle as he cleans his mate up, then himself.

Seungcheol is greedy with the water, too, but Jihoon doesn't mind. He's less forgiving about the huffy little snorts Seungcheol makes when Jihoon starts pulling on clothes, and downright scowls at Seungcheol’s hand around his wrist, a warm, unforgiving restraint trying to pull him back to bed.

"Sleepy—hoon." Seungcheol rumbles, eyes closed.

"I need to eat something Cheollie," says Jihoon, giving an experimental tug, "I’m running on empty."

Seungcheol releases his wrist, then stretches his arms to release a yawn that tapers into a high whine. He pulls Jihoon close to stand between his legs, pushes his head under the hem of Jihoon's T-shirt and pillows it against the soft roundness of his belly.

Jihoon drops a hand to lift the material up, “And _you_ need to wear pants before I order us food.”

Seungcheol grunts like he disputes that fact, and goes back to nuzzling Jihoon's stomach.

“No—seriously." Jihoon catches Seungcheol by the arms, encourages him upright. "We can’t answer the door with you hovering in the background butt naked and waving your dick about.”

Seungcheol grunts something that manages to give the impression he's listening without moving his head far enough to actually look at him.

Jihoon scowls. He knew this was coming. Seungcheol is going to make getting dressed an exercise in patience.

* * *

 

Not a big surprise really, but Seungcheol is resistant to the idea of pants. It's like trying to put a dress on a cat.

A very strong, muscled, six-foot-tall, cat.

The first pair of sweats don't survive the experience, and it's pretty humiliating for everyone involved. Jihoon may or may not have been slapped in the face with Seungcheol’s dick.

They’re both just pretending it didn't happen.

Well— _Jihoon’s_ pretending it didn't happen. He suspects Seungcheol thinks he won in some way.

The second pair get as far as his hips—which is fabulous progress—until Seungcheol looks down and seems to register the fabric as some kind of danger that _needs_ to be eliminated, and proceeds to rip them off.

After a stern talking to with a lot of finger pointing and general disapproval, Jihoon manages to get the third pair of sweats on—and although they’re facing back to front, they stay on this time.

Jihoon sits back on the bed, tired and a little breathless. "Congratulations, you’re wearing pants. I never thought I'd say that to anyone in my life!”

Seungcheol doesn't look as happy as Jihoon thinks he should be, having not grasped the achievement here. He’s doing the lip curling thing, pushing at the grey material with the heel of his palm.

Jihoon catches his hands and squeezes them, "Please keep them on, it's not that you aren't a magnificent specimen of manliness, because you are, you're an incredible specimen of manliness. But there should be an element of mystery and I can’t have you flashing the delivery guy when he shows up later."

Seungcheol pouts, but the pants stay on.

Jihoon can’t say the same for the T-shirt he tries next.

Seungcheol panics once it’s over his head and starts flailing like the folds of clothes are suffocating him. He begins aggressively wrestling with the t-shirt, growling and whining, and manages to finally get it off his head by shredding it in two.

They’re going to need to go clothes shopping after this, Jihoon muses.

“I guess pants are good enough for now.” He says dejectedly.

Jihoon wraps a hand round Seungcheol's arm and very carefully pulls. "Ok, umm, come on - _come_."

He takes a couple of tugs before Seungcheol figures it out, which is lucky because there is absolutely no way that Jihoon is moving Seungcheol without his help. He must be curious enough - or maybe he's just bored of the corner of the room, because he follows him to the kitchen without complaint.

Once in the kitchen, Jihoon grabs the take-out menu pinned to the fridge and orders food; Seungcheol can keep going unfed throughout his rut—but Jihoon needs sustenance.

When the doorbell rings, Jihoon answers it because he's not entirely sure Seungcheol knows how to work door handles anymore, and there’s no telling how he’ll react to strangers.

In the end, he’s glad he did because the minute the door swings open, Seungcheol starts snarling and growling at the delivery boy in a feral rage. 

The sudden flip in his behaviour is more amazing than anything else. It defies logic, how intimidating Seungcheol can be for someone wearing pants the wrong way round.

The delivery boy reels back in shock, eyeballing Seungcheol with a terrified expression. There is absolutely nothing terrified about the way Seungcheol is eyeballing him back, and if Jihoon wasn't in the way he suspects Delivery boy would already be half-eaten, along with most of the delivery.

“Oh—oh fuck!” Delivery boy stammers, bags sliding down his body, shock rendering him unable to hold anything.

“It’s okay, calm down—he’s just in rut.” Jihoon says carefully, in what he knows definitely isn't a calm and relaxed tone of voice.  

He reaches down to grab the delivery. Which apparently is too close for Seungcheol’s comfort, close enough that teeth becomes grating _noise._ His growl deepens to warning levels, like he suspects delivery boy might try and steal Jihoon if he gets to close.

"Oh, shush," Jihoon says, waving a hand at Seungcheol without even looking. "He’s just delivered you food, we don't growl at the people who bring us food."

Seungcheol’s still growling, but now it's lower, more of a complaint at the stranger's closeness than a genuine threat.

Delivery boy eyeballs him sideways, sort of confused, as if he has no idea how Jihoon did that. 

“Oh man—he does _not_ look happy.” The delivery boy stammers, already breaking out into a light sweat. “I’ve never seen a feral Alpha before.”

Seungcheol stretches and tenses in his direction, as if he doesn't like the boy’s voice, and is more than prepared to make it stop, savagely and enthusiastically, if only he comes close enough.

"He's pretty tame actually." Jihoon protests, hand reaching out instinctively to touch Seungcheol's shoulder.

Seungcheol gives a jerky little twitch, like he wants to drag Jihoon close - and maybe scrub the smell of stranger off of him, judging by the way his angry face keeps getting interrupted by little confused expressions. Which is both hilarious and disturbing.

Jihoon sets the bags down next to the door and flips open his wallet to count out the money, “How much is that?”

The delivery boy doesn’t answer, too busy looking at Seungcheol, possibly to see if he's going to be eaten. But Seungcheol's just glaring and baring his teeth, and what Jihoon likes to think of as an air of smug disdain, as if Seungcheol has already proven he could savage the guy into little pieces if he wanted to.

“Hey! How much?” Jihoon repeats.

Delivery boy’s gaze drifts to his, “Uhh—sorry. Uhh—that’s thirty-eight—” He stops talking when Seungcheol cracks his neck from side to side and starts growling like a bear, like the possibility that he's going to turn and sink his teeth into the guy’s throat is still an option here. Oh my God, please let that not be an option.

 “It’s on the house.” Delivery boy finishes, backing away from the door and then catapulting himself down the stairs in a fashion Jihoon thinks is far too melodramatic.

Jihoon sighs heavily and closes the door. 

Seungcheol hauls him close almost immediately, and huffs, like he's offended Jihoon would even open the door to a stranger and make himself smell like them.

“Naughty Alpha.” Jihoon tuts, patting him on the back. “Was the really necessary?”

Seungcheol does his grumbling complaint mostly into his ear while trying to drape himself over him like a cape, a very heavy cape.

“He wasn’t a threat to you. You got us free food for being so—” Jihoon pauses mid scold to really think about that. “ _Actually_ , what am I even complaining about? Good boy, Cheollie!”

* * *

 

Jihoon tears open the delivery bags on the kitchen counter.

Either Seungcheol’s hungry, or is just excited about the smell of food, because he's suddenly there, pushing into Jihoon's back with all the clumsy enthusiasm of someone who thinks he's in charge. But doesn't have the words, or the ability to put on pants without assistance to back it up.

Jihoon elbows him away gently.

“Calm down, would you. Of course, I’m going to feed you too.”

Seungcheol huffs and stalks off momentarily to prowl between the living area and kitchen, giving disagreeable little chuffs.

Though when Jihoon pulls open the lid off his beef stew and stirs it, Seungcheol returns and comes close enough to bash him against the counter, and then he's doing the whole 'unhappy eyebrows' thing. In a _'hey, what are you eating, and me too, and why don't I have some, I should totally have some,_ ' kind of way.

Jihoon giggles and pushes him into a chair at the kitchen table. He sets him up with a napkin, and foolishly, a set of chopsticks.

Seungcheol’s gaze shifts between the chopsticks and Jihoon and the food, and back again in a hilariously focused way.

"You don’t have to use them puppy, I just wanted to give you the option," Jihoon says with a shrug.

Seungcheol nods, like he understood that—then the chopsticks go flying over his shoulder as he attacks his food.

Jihoon watches him devour it with a sort of horrified fascination. That food didn’t stand a chance. The chopsticks would have only slowed him down because Seungcheol inhales his meal in less than a minute, and then blinks at the empty space and looks completely ashamed of himself.

Jihoon uses a couple of hundred napkins to wipe him down. “You’re so adorable.”

Seungcheol beams at him happily, gaze dropping to Jihoon’s meal still sitting in front of him.

“No. _My_ food.” Jihoon scolds, placing a protective hand over his meal in emphasis.

There's a wavering noise in Seungcheol’s throat now, like he's not sure whether he wants whine about that or growl.

The noise stops when Jihoon pulls the white paper packaging back from the container, turns into that 'hopeful dog,' expression. It makes Jihoon snort messy laughter through his nose.

“Okay, okay—I’ll share.”

* * *

 

Jihoon doesn't expect to be in the mood for much more sex when they finally get back to their room. Seungcheol’s rut has almost entered its third day and Jihoon’s tired and gross and all he should want to do is flop into bed and sleep until sundown.

But he needs a shower, and he deserves it first, since he's ten times stickier than Seungcheol. But Jihoon's in there under the water for all of two minutes before Seungcheol is whining at the shower curtain, tugging off his sweats and stepping in with him.

Surprisingly, Seungcheol doesn’t plaster himself against Jihoon’s side as he washes—he takes his own corner of the shower and faces the wall as the water beats down on them.

Jihoon scrubs down and watches the Alpha out of the corner of his eye as he examines a shampoo bottle, then wrestles it out of Seungcheol’s grip before he upends the entire thing on his head again. 

“No.” Jihoon says sternly. Uncapping the bottle, he pours a significantly smaller amount into his palm and begins lathering Seungcheol’s hair.

Somehow, he resists the urge to do ridiculous things with Seungcheol's hair, now he has it all _shampoo-ified_. He gives him a scalp massage instead—and if that results in his hair looking hilarious anyway—well, that’s the shampoos fault.

The Alpha’s eyelids droop and he purrs in appreciation, tipping his head to rest against Jihoon’s shoulder and nosing into his neck. “Mine.” He whispers.

Jihoon turns his head slightly, so that their noses bump together.

"Mine too," he murmurs into Seungcheol’s ear, an answering shiver running through Seungcheol's body beneath his hands, and Jihoon kisses his mate with easy familiarity. This is his, and Seungcheol opens for him immediately. Welcoming and soft, a contented little sound in the back of his throat as Jihoon's tongue slides deep, plays along the roof of his mouth.

And that's when Jihoon realizes he's maybe in the mood for this after all, because all he wants to do is touch Seungcheol  _everywhere_. Rub him down in the hot stream of water—while the heat holds out at least—and cover him with kisses. Maybe—even try something a little different?

Jihoon smirks at the thought, then unclips the shower head and rinses until they're both clean.

* * *

 

When they dry off and return to the bedroom, Jihoon directs Seungcheol over to the bed, gestures for him to sit.

He cups Seungcheol’s cheek, forces him to look into his eyes. Seungcheol’s less needy now, with his rut in its final throws. But he’s as tame and gentle as ever, so goddamn eager to please that Jihoon feels guilty just _looking_ at him.

“So—,” Jihoon coughs, clears the heaviness in his throat. “I was thinking we could try something _new_ Cheollie.”

Seungcheol blinks lazily, looking at him like he's waiting for the punchline—or possibly some sort of squeaky toy.

Which, no, Jihoon really shouldn't laugh at that, it's cruel.

Jihoon takes a deep, steadying breath, and says “I— _wanna fuck you_.” he finishes quickly, feeling his cheeks heat.

Seungcheol opens his mouth, like he's going to speak, going to come out with _‘Not a chance in hell’_ or start laughing uproariously at least. But nothing comes out, nothing at all, just a creak of air that seems almost confused.

Jihoon scoots closer, biting his lip anxiously. “I get the impression—it’s something you’ve wanted—and _maybe_ too shy to ask for? So—I thought we could--” He trails off, then reaches a hand around Seungcheol to cup and squeeze his ass gently.

Seungcheol continues to stare at him blankly.

Right, ok, he's really not getting any of this is he.

Jihoon sighs. “I wish you could say something that tells me you understand.”

Seungcheol surprises him by taking his hand, threading their fingers together. “Hoon—Sex.” He bobs his head, his eyes bright.

Jihoon quirks an amused brow. “Yeah— _Exactly_.”

Maybe this isn’t going to be as difficult as he thought?

**_WRONG._ **

Seungcheol didn’t get the message, or maybe he did and is just fucking with him, because he makes it damn near impossible for Jihoon to get into position or— _anywhere_ near his ass to even _hint_ at what he’s trying to achieve.

Jihoon tries to remain patient with the Alpha, reminds himself: Seungcheol’s still in rut mode, isn’t firing on all cylinders and behaving mostly on instinct. But it’s frustrating, because every time Jihoon tries to position himself behind the Alpha for a better angle, Seungcheol spins around to face him.

“No—no, don’t turn _around_. I’m trying to get _behind_ you!” Jihoon huffs, trying to turn Seungcheol back around again. It’s futile; like trying to push start a monster truck with the hand break pulled up.

Seungcheol gives him the eyebrows of great confusion, then hauls Jihoon onto his lap like he weighs _nothing_.

Jihoon sighs in a half annoyed and half defeated sort of way.

After another few failed attempts at trying to sidle up behind Seungcheol discreetly, Jihoon decides to try something different. He _tackles_ Seungcheol head on instead, hoping brute force will get the message across.

**_WRONG AGAIN._ **

He succeeds in pinning Seungcheol’s shoulders to the bed for all of three seconds, before he blinks and finds _he’s_ the one pinned down.

“What the..”

Seungcheol has reversed their positions in a flash, and is now kneeling between Jihoon’s legs, head low, mouth slightly open, like he's ready to play a game or jump on something.

Jihoon lets his head fall back to the mattress with a thump. “You’re making this experimentation impossible. I’m just trying to show you a good time.”

Seungcheol dimples at him, that sweet smile blurring his deadly edges.

In retrospect, implementing the brute force technique was an amazingly bad idea.

Seungcheol seems to think they’re playing a game now—a ‘pin the Omega to the bed’ kind of game, that involves manhandling Jihoon every time Jihoon tries so much as to lift a hand.

Jihoon’s thoroughly outmatched.

Seungcheol’s too alert, just too quick and strong and Jihoon isn't entirely sure that he always remembers Jihoon isn't _as_ strong as him. He's trying to avoid any awkward moments where he's broken accidentally. But it's hard to get the drop on a 150 pound Alpha, who thinks they’re playing a game.

Jihoon is prepared to give up after thirty minutes of much the same. The bed is in disarray, pillows flung across the room and sheets tangled in a mess between them as Jihoon attempts to launch himself again—only for Seungcheol to intercept him before he's done more than shift a knee off the bed.

“Dammit!” Jihoon snarls.

It’s a little humiliating he can’t overpower Seungcheol like he wants, and Jihoon hopes Seungcheol is never, ever going to remember this.

He needs a moment to collect his breath after his last attempt. Maybe more like five. He pushes himself upright as Seungcheol leans back—shifts into a kneeling position and studies his mate.

Seungcheol's half-knelt in front of him, all messy hair, and eyes which aren't entirely there. The bedsheet is in a crumpled heap between them, and as he fluffs it out—Jihoon has a sneaky idea.

“Oh my god—who’s that over there?” Jihoon says, pointing at _nobody_ by the door.

Seungcheol whips his head sideways to look, growl already forming in his throat when Jihoon pounces. He grabs the sheet off the bed and tosses it over Seungcheol’s head, pushing the alpha down with his weight and pinning his arms.

Jihoon is pretty damn impressed with his own tactical genius.

In any other circumstance—it might be considered a dirty move, but Seungcheol’s left him with few options.

Instead of feeling guilty, he takes advantage of the Alpha’s momentary disorientation to slide a leg between Seungcheol's and push them apart, just a little.

Seungcheol's already fighting with the bedsheets, trying to squirm and flail his way out with an irritated sort of noise.

"Hey—wait!" Jihoon's snaps, and Seungcheol's legs go still, enough that he feels confident in releasing one of the Alpha’s arms and venturing a hand between his legs. He doesn't think lying down, legs spread is a natural movement for Seungcheol at the moment, but he seems willing to do what he's told to see what comes next.

Jihoon sucks on his fingers quickly, easing Seungcheol's thighs apart with his free hand, swearing beneath his breath when Seungcheol spreads far enough for his hole to appear between his cheeks.

He rubs the saliva slick tips of his fingers against Seungcheol's opening, hand heavy on Seungcheol’s stomach, watching his hole wink open and shut against the pressure. He gives just the faintest push, and the muscle gives a little.

He expects Seungcheol to whine in quiet, angry confusion when fingers breach his entrance—but the Alpha doesn’t react.

In fact— _the_ complete lack of response is strange enough to draw Jihoon’s eyes up towards Seungcheol’s face still covered with the bedsheet.

Slowly, he tugs the sheet back to find Seungcheol tensed, not just silent but _frozen_. Watching Jihoon with a dumbstruck expression, mouth barely open and pupils dilated.

Jihoon thinks he’s misjudged the moment. Seungcheol’s breathing too heavily, like he's on the edge of something huge and terrifying. Perhaps Seungcheol’s rut isn’t the best time for them to switch positions.

His hand stills at Seungcheol’s entrance, and he begins to withdraw his finger. “Are you okay—" but his question chokes away when the pause coincides too closely with Seungcheol releasing a sudden, shaky whine, grabbing at Jihoon’s hand and directing it back between his legs.

Realization doesn't hit him outright, too close to surprise, but he gives it a beat and has to test it anyway, finger resuming its subtle slip of rhythm in and out of Seungcheol’s hole.

Seungcheol moans this time, long and low, and his back bows, hips pushing into the pressure and  _oh_. He _likes_ it.

“ _Yeah_? You wanna? You want me to keep going?” Jihoon asks, tracing nervous circles across the firm muscle of Seungcheol’s stomach.

There's probably a little too much excitement in his voice. He sounds hysterical to his _own_ ears. That is not a voice that's convincing anyone to have sex with him, or to let him have sex with _them_.

Seungcheol whines, shifting his position and parting his thighs further to give Jihoon more space to curl close.

“Oh—sweet fuck yes.” Jihoon murmurs, pushing just the tip of a finger inside again, his heart racing, watching Seungcheol’s hole stretch around his digit.

Jihoon’s cock throbs between his legs and his sight is damned near blurred with lust. He's pretty sure he's not actually going to believe this is really happening, until he's balls deep inside his Alpha.

Seungcheol's whimpers quietly, an anxious noise Jihoon knows well enough that he’s compelled to press up and mould Seungcheol's mouth with his to reassure him.  Seungcheol's already hard and leaking against the edge of his waist, a greedy shove-slide of skin that makes the kiss maybe a little messier than Jihoon intends.

It doesn't take long before Jihoon's as hard as him, cock twitching against his stomach and he shifts on his knees.

"Hoon," Seungcheol purrs, eyes open now, wide and dark and soft. And that tone is already million miles away from anxious.

"Cheollie," Jihoon tells him right back. Which gets him a smile, a half-smile. A Seungcheol smile that's somehow twice as much with half the obviousness. He turns Seungcheol's smile into noise when he kicks the sheet down the bed and tips the Alpha's head back. Then opens his mouth on the warmth of Seungcheol's throat.

There's a low growl that's deep enough to slide through him in one hard vibration before Seungcheol whines impatiently, arching back to demonstrate his need.

Jihoon loves Seungcheol's voice, low and harsh and demanding. He loves the way he has a tendency to command, to push, to take what he wants. To be completely and shamelessly filthy without protest or even encouragement.

Seungcheol's hand tangles in his hair, pushes him down with carefully controlled determination. Jihoon makes a noise, soft and agreeable, leaves a trail of warm breath down Seungcheol's abdomen. Until it flares over the weight at his groin. Then the hand in Jihoon's hair tightens, one quick expectant clench and Jihoon trails his tongue across the soft-hard length of him.

The way Seungcheol's breath draws in is familiar already, and yet Jihoon's still greedy for it. For the way the Alpha twitches and shifts under every curl of tongue, every flat slide and slow drag of lips. Like this is new, every time. Like every sensation unravels him completely.

Jihoon waits for the slow tightening in Seungcheol's thighs when he slides back up to curl his tongue over the head. When it comes he moves back down. Tongue wet and slow against the delicate softness of Seungcheol's balls.

Seungcheol gasps and growls a protest at the flagrant teasing. Until Jihoon gently pushes his thighs apart and slides his tongue all the way down. Finds tightness and warmth and there are nails in his scalp and a sharp draw of breath.

He digs his fingers into Seungcheol's flexing thighs, tongue sliding over and then pushing just inside his clenching heat. Seungcheol makes a noise in his throat that's half-animal, thighs spreading, hips tilting and the incessant angry thud of Jihoon's own arousal is cranked up hard enough to hurt.

There's a tiny stutter of breath and one more fiercely demanding clench. There's a brief little spike of pain when Seungcheol's insistence turns into a tug, pulling Jihoon's wet mouth back where the Alpha needs it. Jihoon obediently opens him mouth and lets the gentle tilt of Seungcheol's hips take him inside.

Jihoon groans, lets Seungcheol’s thighs slip over his shoulders and tries to take more, a wet slide of cock that leaves pressure at the back of his throat and a constant thump in his groin.

He reaches between his own legs and smears his fingers over the slick already coating his rim. His body wants to be filled and taken, a natural Omega response to an Alpha in rut, but not what he wants or plans to enjoy for now.

Seungcheol is relaxed and pliant, tame for the taking and it's far too easy for Jihoon to slick up his fingers and then work one inside the Alpha, Seungcheol’s hands clawing the sheets when he dares to push it in quick and deep on every wet drag of his mouth.

Seungcheol’s hole is a tight pocket of heat that clamps hungrily as Jihoon adds a second digit and finds just the right angle and speed to pull a strangled gasp out of Seungcheol's throat.

Seungcheol's thighs tense and then fall apart, leaving him open and relaxed and easy. A perfect and completely unselfconscious display of wantonness and Jihoon's fingers dig into his thighs, trying to press marks into that impossible skin. Trying to push down some of his own need, trying to quiet the heavy thump in his groin that demands he just take. That he open Seungcheol up fast and dirty, leave him loose and wet and sobbing. Before he wrecks him.

He's up to three fingers now and Seungcheol is already breathless, hips shifting, fingers digging and tangling in Jihoon's hair, over and over like he can't stop.

Jihoon's mouth is a wet mess of saliva and pre-come and it's shifting tight and hard on Seungcheol's cock. Slippery and steady and deep.

"Hoon—hoon- _pl—lease."_ the words break, shatter apart when Jihoon adds a fourth digit and curls them. There's just breath and the quick, endless trembles that runs through Seungcheol. The way he's groaning in one long constant noise, getting lower and harder and Jihoon knows he's close. Pushes him all the way there, all the way over, feeling the clench around his fingers when Seungcheol comes in his mouth, on one stuttering slide.

Jihoon slides his mouth away, kisses the soft curve of Seungcheol's pelvis, gets a weak little twitching moan for it. “Not finished yet Cheollie.” Then he's shifting up the bed, Seungcheol's thighs opening and sliding round his waist.

Jihoon grits his teeth and presses the head of his cock against Seungcheol's hole, his mouth falling open as Seungcheol stretches to ease him in, taking him to the hilt in one smooth slide.

Seungcheol is _impossibly_ hot and tight, and Jihoon gets the feeling this is going to be humiliatingly brief.

He’s sure he’s going to cum as soon as he moves.

This will be the least satisfying sex Seungcheol has ever had.

He should probably warn him.

“Oh—fuck Cheollie. You feel amazing—don’t hold it against me if it takes me five seconds to come.”

Seungcheol makes a noise, and Jihoon honestly can't tell if it's irritated or amused, but he can see where one of Seungcheol's hands is twisting in the sheet.

He leans forward, bracketing Seungcheol in his arms and pressing his forehead to Seungcheol's chest. He kisses the jut of his collarbone and listens to Seungcheol as he breathes, deep and even, watching for any signs of discomfort.

There is only the rush of stunned air and the groan that sounds too blissed-out to be real. Seungcheol spreads his legs wider, like it doesn’t ache at all. Like he doesn’t need any time to get used to the sensation. He digs his heel in Jihoon's back, demands the movement and the pressure and the weight of him.

After a few desperate whines and shoves from the alpha, Jihoon sits back and grips Seungcheol by the hips. He pulls out almost to the head and, Seungcheol's fists tighten in the sheets as he braces himself.

"Hoon," Seungcheol says. Voice sounding like darkness and filth and Jihoon's breathing out the Alpha’s name as he braces himself on one arm and slams in hard enough to make his thighs ache.

Seungcheol groans, head hitting the bed with a thud, hair spilling in a dark mess around his face.

Jihoon pushes in again, and again, forcing pants from Seungcheol's lips as he pulls him back onto his cock.

"Fucking hell," Jihoon bites out, easing back onto his heels to watch his cock spear into Seungcheol's ass, parting the plump flesh of his cheeks.

Jihoon fucks into him with long, languid snaps of his hips that Seungcheol matches thrust for thrust. His body strains against Jihoon’s, hard and rigid, muscle and bone, but he’s so soft and warm inside, a tight sucking clutch around Jihoon’s cock. 

Seungcheol’s cock is leaking continuously now, orgasm coiling low and lazy in his groin. Jihoon leans forward, pushes Seungcheol’s legs up against his chest to press his face into his neck. Though the new angle is brilliant, Jihoon’s cock sinking in deeper with each roll of his hips.

Seungcheol’s thighs tremble, a little, from the strain, but he whines anyway, unconsciously asking for more, for Jihoon to go harder,  _deeper_. And Jihoon gives it to him, fucks into him till his thighs ache with the force.

"You feel so good, puppy," he whispers, feeling the bob of Seungcheol's Adam's apple as he swallows. Jihoon speeds up his thrusts, tilting the angle until Seungcheol cries out, mouth pressed open and wet against Jihoon's temple.

"There?" he asks, and Seungcheol nods, swivelling his hips back onto Jihoon's cock, shuddering with each rub against his prostate.

Jihoon can’t shut up about how gorgeous Seungcheol looks, how tight and hot and perfect he is.

"Look at you." Jihoon whispers, breathing him in. “Taking your Omega’s cock. So _hungry_ for it. Should have just told me you wanted this, we could have been doing this ages ago."

Seungcheol whimpers and drops a hand between his legs, groping for his cock. Jihoon catches him and presses his hand back to the mattress.

"No Cheollie, I want to make you come just from this. You can do that for me, yeah?" he asks.

Seungcheol whines but doesn’t try to reach for his cock again.

They kiss, sloppy and blind with more tongue than lips, words bubbling out of Jihoon's mouth before he even has time to consider them.

"Such a good boy Cheollie. So good for me," He breathes against Seungcheol’s lips. "Can’t believe how tame you are baby, letting me take you like this."

It's too good, too fucking amazing and it's not going to last long. Can't last long, not with how demanding Seungcheol can be. All hard fingers and intensity, pushing back, making desperate little sounds that end in something close to a whine. Like he _needs_ this.

“Hoon—hoon—M- _more_.” Seungcheol’s breaks off in a gasp and shuts his eyes, his chest heaving as he comes between them, his hole clenching around Jihoon's cock in tight spasms.

Jihoon drops his hand from Seungcheol's thigh, reaches between Seungcheol's legs and grasps his cock, wringing the last ropes of come with his fingers. “Good boy—so _good_.”

He picks up his pace, ploughing into that tight grip of muscle.

“Want to do so much more Cheollie. Wish I could knot you, fill you with my cum. You’d like that—wouldn’t you. Want to get filled with your Omega’s come." he pants, bucking harder into Seungcheol and feeling his balls tighten between his legs.

"Jihoon." Seungcheol’s voice is too low to be real and Jihoon is shaking and coming and gasping out words that catch in his throat and come out broken. He snaps his hips in once more and spills inside his Alpha.

Jihoon’s left listening to Seungcheol's soft little noises of pleasure as he stutters and jerks and dies his way through orgasm, hissing as Seungcheol’s tight walls milk every drop from his cock.

Seungcheol's more than strong enough to take his weight afterwards. Legs relaxing either side of him when Jihoon slumps down and groans into the curve of his throat. “Oh fuck—that was amazing. You’re amazing. I'm totally keeping you."

Seungcheol grunts, in a way that could mean _'thanks,'_ or it could mean _'you have broken my brain with your sexual expertise.'_ But in actual fact probably means _'get out of my ass.'_

Jihoon slides his cock out carefully, because Seungcheol is always so careful with him.

Sure, Seungcheol may have the whole ‘super strength and stamina’ thing going on right now, but Jihoon isn’t going to be a dick. Because—y'know—he thinks maybe Seungcheol _might_ not have bottomed before. Which just makes the whole thing a trillion times hotter.

For a while they simply breathe together, their bodies damp with sweat, and sticky with lube and come. Jihoon is sure he could doze off like this, but, of course, Seungcheol doesn’t let him.

Seungcheol's fingers slide across the damp skin of his back, then he shifts his thighs and rolls them. Leaving Jihoon panting on his back and the weight of Seungcheol in his lap.

The Alpha is wearing his ridiculously serious expression, which he shouldn't be able to make work while he's naked with hair like a twenty birds have nested in it. But it makes Jihoon catch the hard juts of his hips and pull him up, just a little.

“Did you like that?” Jihoon murmurs.

Seungcheol nods, then bounces on his lap. "More," He says simply.

Jihoon laughs breathlessly. “Alright—give me a minute though. Your refractory period is shorter than mine when you’re in rut.”

Seungcheol doesn’t seem to be listening, and he’s wriggling in Jihoon’s lap before long, grinding and rolling his hips. He appears to be trying to coax life back into Jihoon’s flaccid prick for round two.

“Hoon— _hoon_.” Seungcheol repeats urgently.

“Easy—easy, patience Cheollie.” Jihoon chuckles, smoothing his palms down the Alpha’s flank.

“More.” Seungcheol pouts, though there's more than a hint of command there. Seungcheol's puppy eyed insistence is a force to be reckoned with. Jihoon's gotten far too used to indulging that, but usually it's because petulant huffiness and whining will follow if he doesn't.

Jihoon reaches down to stroke life back into his cock, but finds it already erect and waiting. “Well— _shit_.” He laughs.

* * *

 

"Yes—fuck, Cheol! Just like that!," Jihoon grunts, flat on his back, his hands tight around Seungcheol's waist as the Alpha drops back down onto Jihoon's cock. "So good. Keep going. All of it, take every inch of my dick."

Seungcheol's head tips forward and he grips the bedsheets above Jihoon’s shoulders, thighs straining as he rides Jihoon with quick, smooth twists of his body.

Their sheets are a mess, damp from come and sweat and lubricant and they twist around Jihoon's legs as he plants his feet on the bed. He pushes up deeper into Seungcheol's ass, the smack of Seungcheol's flesh against his pelvis loud even over the sound of Jihoon's commentary.

"Fucking love it, don't you?" Jihoon pants. “Can't get enough of being fucked full of my come, can you?"

Jihoon's eyes flutter shut as Seungcheol's hole spasms around his cock, the ring of muscle squeezing him right to the head. Jihoon forces his eyes back open and slides his palms up Seungcheol's damp torso, over the tight stomach and straining ribcage.

"Such a good boy," he groans, feeling his cock harden a fraction more, the tight coil of pleasure in his stomach surging towards his groin.

Seungcheol's eyes snap open and he purrs down at Jihoon, his eyes completely black, the tight, clench of his jaw slackening as Jihoon comes inside him again.

Jihoon groans, hips stuttering up between Seungcheol's legs and his back rising into an arch as he twitches and spurts.

Seungcheol's eyes roll in his head and he bucks on Jihoon's cock, the flush of his cheeks spreading to his chest as his hands shift to grip Jihoon by the shoulders.

"That's it, come on," says Jihoon, breathless yet unable to keep the smirk from his voice, "work your tight ass, let me see you come all over yourself."

Seungcheol whines, taking Jihoon's softening cock in to the root with quick snaps of his hips. Jihoon can feel the wet heat of Seungcheol's cock where it brushes against his stomach and his fingertips itch with the desire to grab it, hold it and encourage the alpha to swell and spill heavily over both of them.  

“C’mon Cheollie—good boy. Come for me.” Jihoon coos.

Seungcheol's face twists in agony and his fingernails bites into Jihoon' shoulders as he gives a hoarse cry, coming across Jihoon's stomach.

“Yes—good— _fuck_. Good Alpha.” Jihoon grins, wrapping slender fingers around the pulsing cock and  tugging it lazily to milk every drop out.

Seungcheol shudders, easing himself up and down Jihoon's cock with slow strokes before he finally stills, lowering his forehead to Jihoon's chest.

Jihoon gives him a moment to catch his breath.

Seungcheol’s damp with sweat, his hair in curls and plastered to his forehead. Jihoon brushes it back and kisses his cheek, waiting until he feels Seungcheol harden again, cock twitching against his stomach.

It all happens in less than three minutes; Alpha refractory periods in rut will be the death of him, but what a way to go.

“Again?” Jihoon asks.

Seungcheol's eyes crack open and he nuzzles agreeably.

* * *

 

A few fucks later, Jihoon makes Seungcheol come from his tongue alone.

Granted, Seungcheol is frotting against the bunched-up bedsheets like a fiend and Jihoon’s tongue happens to be buried inside him, but it’s impressive all the same.

Jihoon follows within heartbeats, sitting back on his heels and spilling over his red-knuckled fist onto Seungcheol’s thighs. If anything, Jihoon gets off on finding new ways to make Seungcheol cry out and come apart.

* * *

 

“Oh—fuck—fuck.” Jihoon groans and buries his cock one last time inside Seungcheol to the root, headboard thudding against the wall with the force of it. He presses his face into Seungcheol's hair and comes, pumping himself deep into his mate and filling him.

When he begins to pull out, Seungcheol starts to object, but then Jihoon slides two fingers into him pushing his come back inside, and Seungcheol can only groan and spread his legs wider so Jihoon can press in a little more.

“You just want to be filled—don’t you.” Jihoon purrs, his fingers moving slow, taunting and relentless inside Seungcheol. 

“Maybe I should keep fucking you till you’re dripping full with my come, then plug you up with a toy—like some kind of pseudo knot. I should do that—see whether you like it as much as I do.” He smirks, feeling the wetness of his come as he slides his fingers in and out.

“Be my guest, nothing’s stopping you.” Seungcheol croaks.

It takes Jihoon a moment to recognize what’s amiss, then his head snaps up so fast it’s a wonder he doesn’t give himself whiplash.

His first thought is,  _Of course Seungcheol would choose now to come out of his fugue._  His second, directed at the universe at large, is, “What the hell?”

He eyeballs Seungcheol, starting to withdraw his digits, but Seungcheol clenches tightly around them and groans.

“Hnn—don’t pull out. Not yet. _Please_.” His voice pitched low in the way that makes something curl up hot and tight in Jihoon’s chest.

Jihoon blushes, but obliges him, sinking three fingers back inside to the last knuckle. “How…long have you—been back for?”

“Hmm—two, three rounds.” Seungcheol says, biting his lip and rocking his hips against Jihoon’s hand.

“Wh—why didn’t you say anything?” Jihoon gets out, and his throat is doing this weird, clicking, hoarse thing. He isn't sure whether to laugh hysterically, or snap back instead.

Seungcheol’s head lolls back against the bed, “I was having too much fun—didn’t want you to stop.” He says, and grins, looking distinctly unapologetic when Jihoon smacks him on the leg with his free hand.

“Sneaky fucker. You could have said _something_ —I would have kept going if you wanted me to.” Jihoon grins, licking his lips, and gives another twist of his fingers that has Seungcheol's back arching, hands fisting in the sheets.

“ _Ahh_ — _Yeah_ —but— _ahhnn_ —would you have said all those filthy things… had you realised I understood them all?” Seungcheol says, fighting to keep some semblance of composure as Jihoon stretches him further.

Jihoon hums and tilts his head in acknowledgement. “Good point.”

Seungcheol’s brown eyes flicker over Jihoon’s face, quick and curious, and then his brows come together.  “So—are you gonna do it, or what?” He says breathlessly.

Jihoon’s brow pinches. “The plug? _Seriously_?”

Seungcheol smirks lazily. _Shamelessly_. “Bottom drawer, my side.”

Jihoon pulls away and taps at Seungcheol's hip. "On your stomach." he orders.

He reaches over to the bedside table as Seungcheol rolls over between his legs. He rummages in the drawer for a moment before finding the plug and sits back on his heels.

Seungcheol's flushed face lifts to stare back over his shoulder. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this." He says, barely out loud, and that’s all, but it makes a greedy, rushing heat gather in Jihoon’s stomach, makes his voice drop, lower, a little ragged.

"God, Seungcheol.”

Jihoon groans as he takes in the sight of Seungcheol face down, ass up—waiting to be filled. His hole is red and wet, Jihoon’s come dripping out and down his thighs.

Jihoon feels a sweat break out on his forehead, his muscles straining against the desire to shove his dick inside instead.

Seungcheol pushes himself up on his hands, shifting onto his knees and pressing back. "C’mon Hoonie, gonna make me beg?”  He says, wiggling his ass.

Jihoon drops his gaze to the plug in his hand.

It’s big— _huge_ even. Seungcheol can’t be ready for it yet, hell no. Even relaxed from orgasm already, he  _can’t_  be.

A better man would pull away, lay Seungcheol down and get him prepped properly, make sure he’s loose and wet.

But Jihoon _isn’t_  a better man. He’s fantasized about plugging Seungcheol full of his come for months – and Seungcheol’s glancing over his shoulder, a teasing light in his eyes, a smile hiding in the twitching corners of his mouth, and Jihoon breaks.

“Never.” Jihoon gives a growl as he finally pushes and twists the plug inside him.

Seungcheol makes a quiet, wet sound through his teeth. “ _Ahh—ahh._ Fuck, Jihoonie— _yes_.” He gasps, ass sucking the toy in.

“Such a slutty Alpha.” Jihoon says as he circles a finger around Seungcheol’s abused hole.

He pushes a hand through Seungcheol's hair to wrap around his nape. It only takes a little bit of pressure to guide Seungcheol into a slow, easy kiss.

“You love it.” Seungcheol pants against his lips.

Jihoon grins. “That, I do.”

* * *

 

Seungcheol is quiet after, fucked out. Jihoon washes up in the bathroom, gets dressed and grabs him a glass of water.

When he returns to the bedroom, Seungcheol is face down in the middle of the bed and Jihoon strokes his hair tenderly until he opens one eye and gives Jihoon a slit-eyed, sleepy look.

“Go—shower. I’ll make you something to eat, then you can sleep as much as you like.” Jihoon rasps.

Seungcheol smiles and rolls out of bed, barely supressing a hiss as the plug shifts inside him. He makes it to the doorway of the bathroom before Jihoon calls out.

“Oh—and—Don’t even _think_ about removing that plug while you’re there Cheollie." Jihoon warns. There's affection glinting behind the predatory look he levels him, fondness too deep for Jihoon to mask.

“Yes boss.” Seungcheol smirks. He doesn’t need to be told twice.

* * *

 

It’s torture, trying to ignore the pressure in his ass as he washes. The curve of the plug feels like an awful tease, never quite reaching what Seungcheol is looking for until he gives it a slight twist. And— _oh fuck—fuck._

The change in angle already makes him feel _fuller_ , and a gentle nudge in hits its target and Seungcheol gasps, sharp. Does it twice more, back arching against the wet tiles as the bulbous head nudges his prostrate.

He gingerly steps out of the shower and quickly dries himself. Then stands with a towel around his waist—mulling over the state of his clothing.

Why is half his wardrobe on the floor?

Why is half of it shredded?

Has Jihoon been on one of his recycling sprees again?

 _Probably_.

He mulls over his options, then drags one of his intact pair of sweats and a threadbare T-shirt.

Wait—Why is the armhole of this T-Shirt stretched to ridiculous proportions?

* * *

 

When Seungcheol pads into the kitchen, he freezes in the doorway.

Jihoon’s holding a spatula, he’s rolled up his sleeves and something that smells divine simmers on the stove; he’s humming some song that sounds familiar but Seungcheol can’t place. There’s a cold beer sitting on the table--clearly not Jihoon’s as his is half-drunk on the counter--condensation just starting to bead on the surface.

Jihoon drops down to check on something in the oven, then pulls out a tray of potatoes that splutter pleasantly as he tosses them. He turns the stove off, and removes the steaks to rest; they look tender, brown, nearly caramelized on the outside. Seungcheol’s mouth waters.

Jihoon turns, sees him standing and smiles like a cherub, “There you are. Did you have a nice shower? Sit—it’s nearly ready.” He says, then he digs out the silverware and sets the table. 

Seungcheol has to grip the doorway—lest he faint. He isn't sure whether to keep staring like it's a wildlife documentary, or check the calendar and make sure he isn't living in the 1940’s.

“Who are you and what have you done with my Jihoon?” He says instead.

Jihoon blinks at him, then studies his surroundings. His eyebrows curve down in offence—and wait for it—wait—he’s pouting?

Yes—there it is! A scowl!

He’s _scowling_.

Oh, thank fuck!

It’s his precious pudding again.

“Ha—ha. I’ve cooked for you hundreds of times.” Jihoon grumbles.

Seungcheol crosses the kitchen, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a fond smile. “Never like this. Never— _steak_.”

“Well—it was in the fridge and we had to cook it eventually.” Jihoon huffs.

“And this?” Seungcheol says, gesturing to the set table, to the cold beer _waiting_ for him. “Did—did we step back into the 1940s? Are you gonna bake later? Where's my cigar?”

Jihoon throws his hands up in the air dramatically. “What’s the big deal! I can do nice things for you to-“ His huff is cut short as Seungcheol steps closer.

With a hand hooked behind Jihoon's neck, Seungcheol pulls him in for a kiss, soft and short. “I’m not complaining Jihoonie—I’m just confused. You—you _hate_ cooking.”

Jihoon’s scowl lessons. “Yeah, but—you deserve steak. You were so patient when I was being shitty before and—then you let me do all those fun things to you.”

“So—what you’re saying is—I can expect a home cooked meal every time I bend over? Or is this aftercare?” Seungcheol grins.

Jihoon thumps him lightly on the chest, then soothes the spot with his palm. “It’s not that—I just—you’re such a good Alpha. Always so good to me. So precious. Precious puppy. Need to take care of you.” He coos, reaching up to pet Seungcheol's hair.

“Seriously, you’re scaring me.” Seungcheol deadpans.

Jihoon attempts a stern look, Seungcheol can see the slight furrow in his brow waiting to crease into a scowl again.

Seungcheol soothes it away with a quick kiss. “I’m just teasing.”

“You’re such a jerk.” Jihoon says, gruff words tinged with unmistakable affection.

This close to Jihoon, Seungcheol thinks he could count each individual eyelash. Memorize the precise shadows they cast on Jihoon’s cheeks. There's a subtle blush over the bridge of his nose, warming pink amid the porcelain skin. Seungcheol could spend an age just— _looking_ at his mate, pinching himself with how lucky he is.

Jihoon’s always selling himself short, thinking he has to make up for some non-existent deficit, when in reality he’s perfect—always has been. Steak dinner or no.

Seungcheol swallows hard to tamp down on the slushiness that threatens to overwhelm him.

“You’re so cute puddin’. I love you so much.”

Jihoon’s smile spreads slow, like the sun bleeding over the horizon; he brushes a thumb over Seungcheol’s lower lip. “I love you too.”

They kiss again, a little longer. A lot deeper.

Seungcheol wraps his arms entirely around Jihoon and pulls him close, pressing them together from groin to chest. Jihoon's hands slide from Seungcheol’s neck to his hair, grabbing thick fistfuls of it as he fights the urge to grind against him.

It doesn’t last long.

They end up pressed against the kitchen counter, necking furiously. They’ve been fucking non-stop for the last 72 hours and here—now—they’re practically at it again. It'd be hilarious if Seungcheol wasn't so hard and breathless, dizzy with want.

Eventually, they have to make the choice between continuing the kiss or suffocate themselves, and Seungcheol pulls back hardly at all. "Jesus, we just finished. What’s wrong with us." he says, lips bumping against Jihoon's.

“I know, I know. I just—ahh.” Jihoon moans quietly, hips thrusting into the pressure on his cock.

Jihoon’s hands slide down his back to settle on his ass, and Seungcheol whines as they squeeze roughly—pressing the plug deeper.

Seungcheol looks down to find a wet spot on his pants and blushes. Jihoon follows his gaze and drags his thumb along the hot, hard length.

“Think the dinner can be re-heated?” Seungcheol says, panting into Jihoon’s mouth.

“Yes. Bedroom. _Now_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) YAAAYYYYYY!!!  
> 2) This chapter was actually larger, but I decided to skim some bits to use for later....because they would make more sense later in the storyline.  
> 2) I love Jicheol switching :) Planned on a little switch back in chapter 2 and finally....a bijillion words later I wrote it. I can imagine Seungcheol wanting that tbh. And of course Jihoon is the best dominant Omega.  
> 3)From my notes I predict....another three parts to the ABO series. That could change, we'll see.  
> 4) Hope this chapter satisfied everyone who wanted: bottom Alpha Cheol, oral knotting and Jihoon giving cheol head. Those were the most requested from the previous comments.  
> 5) I know people want pups and that is coming!  
> 6) Thank you for reading and feedback is appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Short because....this part is not over.  
> IT'S ACTUALLY HUGE and I had to separate it into chapters.  
> 1) POOR CHEOL. It's okay though....he'll get a good dicking.  
> 2) I thought of feral Cheol and....oblivious Jihoon ages ago and imagined all the shit they would get up to XD Soft alpha cheol makes me so soft tbh.  
> 3) Hope you enjoy this chapter...and can guess what comes next. Ohohoohohoh  
> 4) Thank you for reading. Feedback always appreciated.


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